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“He’s hot. I wouldn’t have transferred if I went to his school.”
    I laugh as she pretends to fan herself. “Yeah, and his problem is that he knows it.”
    â€œI see. One of those. Pity.” She motions for me to get up. “Come on. You need to meet more people here . Unless you don’t want to.” She adds the last bit uncertainly, like she fears I’m going to reject her.
    As if.
    Buried beneath my anxiety about my mission is something else I’ve been trying to ignore: the empty pit in my stomach. Although I lied—I haven’t been catching up with Jordan and Summer and Cole—I want to. I want to be with my friends. My loneliness only amplifies the anxiety.
    I tell myself these feelings are simply caused by the levels of neurotransmitters in my brain, but that’s stupid. All we are is a bunch of electrochemical reactions. Biologically based machines. But that doesn’t make the feelings any less unpleasant.
    What good is being able to reduce everything to numbers and reactions when life itself can’t be reduced that way? Sophia and I are one now. I can’t push myself away from her. It’s exhilarating and terrifying.
    And she’s my responsibility. I’m here. I’m Sophia, and I have work to do, part of which is fitting in and being normal so that people will open up to me and I don’t get caught. It’s just an excuse for what I’m about to do, but it’s true.
    â€œOkay,” I say. “What are you doing?”
    Audrey grins. “Talking about the Games. Come on. I want you on our team, and we have to plan.”
    Right, more planning. Just what I need.
    Day five of this mission and the things I’m learning continue to overwhelm me. Don’t mention the work is easy unless someone else says it first. Don’t worry about being on time for class; nobody is. And, perhaps most importantly, don’t laugh at everyone’s obsession with RTC’s beloved Games.
    Now what have I learned that actually relates to the point of my mission? Absolutely nothing. It’s starting to piss me off too. I came here with delusions of wrapping this whole deal up in under two weeks. That’s not looking so likely anymore.
    Fighting to keep my scowl hidden, I sit next to Audrey in Intro Physics. My attempt to set a trap for X in the student center girls’ bathroom failed this morning, and I can’t risk such a thing again so soon. It’ll draw too much attention.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Audrey runs a hand through her curls, trying to control the damage the wind caused on our way here.
    I pull up our physics book on my e-sheet. Guess I didn’t hide the scowl as well as I thought. “Nothing. Just bored by how much of this is review from high school physics.”
    â€œLeast it’s easy for you.” She sighs, then immediately stops primping as Chase and Kyle enter the room.
    I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to say something encouraging here, but I don’t know what, so I pretend to be distracted by a hangnail. I’ve never known anyone who’s struggled with math or science.
    While I search for words, I watch another girl sit near Chase. She has a large purple bruise on her calf. It’s a good clue, and I make note of it. Still, cataloguing my classmates for bruises is not a very efficient way to go about searching for X.
    â€œI can help you with the math part if you help me with philosophy,” I finally say. That’s another thing I’ve learned so far: philosophy class is going to be torture. Unfortunately, RTC prides itself on providing a classical liberal arts experience, which meant I was advised to sign up for several pointless courses this semester. I thought they’d help me blend in and fill out my schedule, but I didn’t count on some of them actually being difficult.
    Audrey’s face brightens. “Deal. I loved Dr. Ken’s class.”
    I